


A Matter of Time

by eldriitchs



Category: Original Work
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Baggage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fear of Death, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Lovecraftian, Murder, Murder Mystery, Psychological Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 04:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldriitchs/pseuds/eldriitchs
Summary: He knew that his time was running short.He knew that he would become another victim.





	A Matter of Time

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a small writing exercise for a story i'm working on.  
> \- - - - - - - - -  
> * in case you haven't read the additional tags  
> main warnings: murder, death, &&. suicide/suicidal thoughts

1

 

          There was something disgusting that Edward saw within himself everytime he buried another body.

          It was a feeling, a feeling that left his stomach clench in pain and bile rise up in his throat. Shovel in hand and the cadaver at his feet Edward continued to dig at the forest ground until a sizeable hole was made to fit the body, or what was left of it anyway. He didn’t dare to look at the corpse as he lowered it into the ground, he never did. Warm hands suddenly met a cold body and Edward swore and felt his eyes tear at the rank smell of decay.

          He gently lowers the corpse and quickly sought to covering the grave. His hands shake when he hears the sound of leaves crunching behind him, fear settling in as he digs faster. He could feel eyes glaring into the back of his head and briefly turned around, his arms mid-air as he pauses his shovelling.

          Dead green met fearful brown.

          Edward curses under his breath fearfully and turns around, a feeling of dread settling over him. They were watching him, watching him bury up the corpse that they created. Edward hated it, he hated every second of it, and if there was a way for him to escape this horror: he would’ve taken that chance and forget the horrors he witnessed.

          It’s five in the morning when Edward finishes burying the corpse. He quickly leaves the burial site with caution, looking down at the grassy ground in despair. Whether it was due to the fact that there were more burial sites underneath him, or the fact that they were following him—he did not know. He just wanted to go home and forget what he had just done. When he did return home the first thing he did was wash his hands, scrubbing until his palms turned red and his nails turn white from constantly scratching. Anything to get rid of this itching pain in his chest, anything to get rid of the sight of cadavers and green eyes.

          He looked out the window, into the dark forest that no longer felt like a childhood home, but a graveyard with him as it’s keeper. It was pointless to try and bring his attention to something that he used to enjoy, not even a long book could keep his mind occupied. He was trapped with no escape. Edward looked down at the clock that read 6:45 a.m. and let out a groan.

          It wouldn’t be long until another corpse would turn up in his backyard.

 

 

2

 

          “Did you hear Ed? Another person went missing last night.”

          Edward opens his eyes and realizes that a tall figure is obscuring his vision, he immediately recognizes the voice to be that of Miss Athena Cassidy, his friend—and some would say his only friend—of eight years. She’s sitting across from him, a cup of jasmine tea in her hands. Edward feels a sensation of confusion wash over him before realizing that he and Athena had decided to catch a quick coffee break after a long day of work at the station.

          Dazed but slowly coming to his senses, Edward nods.

          “A woman, right?” He asks nervously, “Did Richards and Carter ever get any conclusive evidence from the scene, or was it another failed investigation?”

          “No.” Athena takes a sip of her tea while shaking her head, “I overheard a conversation Blewitt and Carter had earlier before we left, Carter said it was like the others.”

          Nausea begins to settle in Edward’s gut as he turns to the screen, watching as a local news reporter is talking about another missing persons case, if he recalled correctly the station received a distress call from a woman earlier in the day. As it turns out now, another person had gone missing in Sunset City. Another victim… Another body.

          “Hey, you alright?” Athena’s voice causes Edward to look at her as if he was caught with his pants down, he nods his head silently.

          He watches as Athena calls a waitress to bring a cup of water, when it comes Edward finishes it within seconds, it doesn’t ease his fears. He runs a hand through his hair and briefly wonders if he should seek help from his friend, would she turn him away? _Turn him in?_ The thought of being named a criminal keeps his mouth shut, idly fiddling with the plastic cup. A question finally settles into his mind and he taps the table, gaining Athena’s attention.

          “Do you think the FBI’s going to get involved?”

          “Probably,” Athena shrugs, “Though with so many missing person cases I wonder why nobody is taking charge of this problem. Something bad’s going on in this city, and even the detectives and inspectors are having a hard time just finding a single fingerprint or hair in the crime scenes, it’s as if nothing happened!”

          “True.” Edward agrees before looking at his hands, ashamed.

          He knows why there’s no evidence or clues, he knows why all “leads” end up being wrong, inconclusive, or unhelpful to these cases. He knows why no one has found the missing people yet. He knows. Edward lets out a sigh and stands up, motioning Athena to follow him.

          “Need me to walk you back home?” Athena asks.

          “No, no.” Edward quickly shakes his head, “I’m good.”

          “You sure? No offense but you seem more on edge than usual.” Athena’s eyebrows furrow in concern, placing a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “You’re always so jumpy and cautious now, I’m worried.”

          Edward lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, smiling.

          “Relax, girl.” He waves a dismissing hand, “You’re like my mom.”

          Athena looks unconvinced but nods anyways, ruffling Edward’s hair. As they leave the building Athena gives him a final wave before turning around and taking her usual route to her apartment complex. Edward’s smile slowly falls until his eyes droop miserably, his cheeks hurting from the lack of using his facial muscles. He doesn’t return home, instead he finds himself wandering down the quiet suburban streets, realizing that he is making his way towards Memory Park. The playground is empty and not even the homeless as sleeping on the benches, it’s completely empty. No one dared to leave their home after seven, ever since people started to go missing everyone began to experience fear for their loved ones. Sitting on an old, rusted green bench he shoves his hand in his pockets, slinging his black backpack beside him on the empty spot.

          Edward never thought that he of all people would grow to hate the silence. To add on this was no normal silence, not the peaceful one after a hard day at work or after a day with friends, this was dead silence. He closes his eyes for a moment, only to open then a second later when he feels cold hands brush against his shoulders. He jumps back and frantically turns around.

          There’s no one there.

          Alone and at the mercy of their cruel tricks Edward brings his hands to his face and lets out terrified, broken sobs. Just how many people had gone missing? Edward could only remember the thirty-four cases that were made at the station. For all SCPD knew there could’ve been more people, more corpses, more murders—people that didn’t have family or friends that cared about them.

          The constant thought of death, whether it be by his own hand or their hand, lingered in his mind. How long until _his_ time was up?—until they had no use for him?—until they decided that they were going to turn him into a corpse? No matter what Edward thought—much to his chagrin and lingering hope—he had a feeling that he was eventually going to end up six feet underground.

          Edward wiped his nose and eyes, smearing tears against his crusty cheeks, looking up at the tangerine sky. The sun was setting, it was time to go home. Putting his backpack on and checking the time, he momentarily thought about calling a cab before dismissing that thought. They probably left another body at his doorstep, and he didn’t need someone else to go missing just because they saw too much. As Edward walked through the forest and towards his home he felt a glimmer of hope shine within himself when he noticed that no cadaver, bloody and torn to shreds, was to be seen.

          Then again they had dropped off the body in his room on one or two occasions prior. Edward opened the door in his small house, thoroughly each closet and corner, making sure that the stench of blood or decay wasn’t lingering. Finally after an hour of searching, Edward came to a delightful realization that there was nothing to bury.

          His relief was soon shot down when he finally got into bed and turned off the light, and through his messy brown hair he noticed dull green eyes staring at him from the corner of the room. His heartbeat began to quicken and he tightly closed his eyes, the grip on his blanket growing tighter. His fear and terror only increased when he felt a cold hand—their cold hand—petting his hair.

_. . . Pet . . . Pet . . . Pet . . ._

          He could practically imagine a cruel smile pull up the corners of their mouth, he didn’t dare move or open his eyes. And even so he couldn’t get the visage of their eyes, and at times their bloody hands, out of his head. Edward counted seconds to minutes until they stopped petting his hair after forty-five long minutes. And he could’ve sworn that he felt something wet drag against his cheek, not a tongue exactly, but a finger covered in something. The metallic scent that reached his nose was a dead giveaway, and a sick feeling built up in his stomach as he began to succumb to sleep.

          He wondered, as he dreamed, what would’ve happened if he opened his eyes.

 

 

3

 

          He was right, he was fucking right. When he woke up at seven thirty-six in the morning he could distinctly hear the sound of something wet and fleshy slamming against his front door. He rushed down the stairs, briefly noticing how there was a distinct muddy red smear against his cheek, and opened the door.

          “Jesus Christ!”

          He cried and jumped back as he found not one but three bodies at his front porch. He stared into the woods, thankful that the next house was at least an hour away from him. He glanced at the bodies and lurched forward emptying the contents within his stomach into the nearest bush. These weren’t even bodies anymore, they were just a pile of shredded meat and sickly pale bones. Edward stepped forward and heard a crunch, to ease his worry it was a piece of paper.

          Unfurling it he found neat cursive print on the paper, it was a note from them.

 

 _Did you like my gift? I noticed that you had trouble carrying Miss Amy Pierce yesterday and decided to ease your problems! Then again your arms are so frail… I wonder how easy it would be to snap them! At your feet are a few people that you may know: Detective Maddison, Inspector Dixon, and Detective Carter! I swear Detective Carter and Maddison were rather_ **_difficult_ ** _to handle, but I managed! And they were so close too! I was mildly surprised that Carter tried to shoot me after watching me recover a second after, SCPD sure has some resilient and dedicated employees! I’m looking forward to watching you sleep again!_

 

_From Yours Truly,_

_Mother_

 

          Edward’s hands tremble as he finishes reading the note, disgusted at the fact that they even dared to put a little heart at their “name.” And then came the horror in realizing that these three piles of bone, blood, and meat were his co-workers. Did Carter and Maddison look too deep into the cases? Did they see them? Did Dixon discover something he wasn’t supposed to discover? He crumbles the paper and shoves it in his pant pocket, briefly remembering that he still wore his clothes from the day before. His mind is numb, he can’t move, he can’t think.

          He didn’t want to live this life, a life of lies and death.

          He needed relief, a means to an end: _salvation_.

          Edward remembers that he has a pistol in his backpack and finds the strength to close his door and walk up the stairs. He searches through his backpack and his hands shake when they come in contact with the cold metal. He lifts up the device, heavy and full of promise, and turns off the safety mechanism. His heart skips a beat.

_Did he want this?_

          He lowers the gun and lets out a shaky laugh, not noticing how his hands shake more and more, the beating of his pulse is loud in his ears. Slowly he lifts the gun to his temple and takes a deep breath, his last breath, and closes his eyes.

 

**_BANG!_ **

 

          The sound is loud, echoing throughout the house until the thunder-like sound is no more. Edward is dead, he’s sure of it, his head rings at the sound and yet his hands do not let go of the gun: he does not fall to the ground in a bloody mess. He feels cold air hit his nose and it doesn’t take long for him to realize that he’s made a huge mistake.

_“Oh Eddie.”_

          Their voice is just like how he remembered it: emotionless, cruel, and taunting.

          Terrified he opens his eyes and drops his firearm placing a hand over his mouth, fright and horror in his eyes. They’re in front of him, waving a thin finger in his face like a mother scolding a child that was caught doing something wrong. A small smile pulls at the corners of their mouth as they bow at his level, Edward doesn’t dare to move, shaking so hard that he thought that he would shatter if they would do so much as touch him. They continue to speak, words going unheard by panicking ears.

          “You were doing so well,” They pause and reach to hold the gun, spinning it in the air like a new toy a child would get on Christmas.

          “But you’re just like the others.”

          They suddenly sneer and narrow their eyes and clench their fist, with inhuman strength the weapon is nothing more than flattened metal. Edward’s mouth is agape, his face frozen in fear. They drop what remained of the weapon and leaned closer to cup his cheeks into their hands. They take in his fear and smile—smile of all things!—quietly laughing and shaking their head. The shadows in the room began to grow and grow until even the windows glowed gray and not even the sun’s light would reach this part of the forest. They tilt Edward’s head to look into his eyes.

          Catatonic brown stared into nothingness.

  


4

 

          For the first time in a year and a half the Sunset City Police Department was able to close a missing persons case. For the first time in forever—when the fear and panic first began with the disappearance of a young girl from Golden Oaks Lane—there was a “successful” investigation. The investigation began when the fair and worrisome Athena Cassidy sought to search for Edward Neville, who hadn’t gone to work for at least a week without calling in. Upon arriving at his home an investigation was quickly made when Officer Cassidy stumbled upon three rotting piles of flesh with no sight of Edward Neville in sight.

          That is until Detective Ross Glover with two canines by his side and at least fifteen officers from the station, headed into the woods: which reeked of foul decay. The dogs barked and howled, clawing into the forest dirt until a something was uncovered from the earth: it was a body that was stripped of it’s flesh and skin, the only thing remaining were bones and a fully-attached head, still fresh and sickly gray. It didn’t take long for Ross Glover to realize that this rotting face belonged to the one and only Edward Neville.

          The rotting flesh at the front of the house was too rotten, too _decayed_ to be recovered. Edward Neville’s murder however, was the first case—that many speculated was connected to the other missing person cases—that Sunset City Police Department had solved after a year and a half full of dead ends. Unbeknownst to the officers who would investigate the home, and rather the forest, they were walking upon a graveyard full of corpses.

          Edward Neville was the second person to receive a proper burial and the best funeral service SCPD could offer. People, Edward’s distant family and friends—who had only decided to come after remembering that he existed once in a lifetime—mourned for two months straight. It didn’t matter of course, it’s not like their mourning would raise him from the dead.

          Afterall he was just another victim.

**Author's Note:**

> remember to leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed reading it!


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